


Porcelain

by notcoolhajime



Category: Dangan Ronpa Zero, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Matsuda is thorny but Komaeda doesn't care, Oral Sex, Shy about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24310354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcoolhajime/pseuds/notcoolhajime
Summary: Komaeda sees it, the heart of the small boy hiding behind the porcelain shell that cracks: a heart that hasn't seen direct sunlight or any type of human connection in years.(Matsuda is cold, harsh and biting. So all things considered, Komaeda didn't expect Matsuda to be shy about anything.)/Talentless AU/
Relationships: Komaeda Nagito/Matsuda Yasuke
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53
Collections: Mixed_Fics





	Porcelain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starrylitme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylitme/gifts).



> For my dear friend Magi who always cheers me up whenever she messages ;o; love u!
> 
> Started out as a pwp for the prompt “shy about sex”, but I don't know how to write nsfw or get to the point. Help. qvq
> 
> Posting at 6:43am in the morning, I hope ... this makes sense and is a coherent piece of work. There will be so many sexy grammar mistakes.

Matsuda was always blunt. Matsuda was harsh, sniping. Komaeda wonders if he tries to make it hurt when he does it, striking those mean comments that left girls' hearts broken and boys feeling inferior. It came with his confidence, with his ability to hold a scalpel; and just like with a scalpel, he can deliver so many sharp jabs at a person, in just the right places, to maximum effect- leaving a person alive, but fearful. Showing both threat, and mercy.

So many times Komaeda had entered the room to an insult that would have warned off any person. Entering Matsuda's clinic is like entering the enclosure of a giant, black cat. Upon entrance you feel his gray eyes on you. If that doesn’t deter you, he then lashes out with a smart quip. 

Matsuda was confident, which was why he could be so scorching. He wasn't afraid to hold back from telling the truth, with extra edge. 

"You're the ugliest thing I've seen all day." He’d say back then.

"Sorry about that." Komaeda would laugh, something that drew unimpressed eyes would look up at him. 

After they'd accepted the fact that Komaeda was always the ugliest thing he'd seen all day for their first few meetings, things had gone along swimmingly.

But whatever Matsuda says to Komaeda, he consciously stays. And although it annoys Matsuda, that his usual tactic to try to keep people at bay isn't working... 

Well.

Despite how _unimpressive_ Komaeda was, Matsuda at least seemed curious as to why Komaeda didn't run. And in fact, things had seemed to come full circle in a surprising way. 

After too many times, when Matsuda would use scathing comments, and then watch for a response - any type of response- and not get any... 

"You know you're not supposed to sit there and just take shit?" Matsuda would say, aggravated. "Not even my shit."

"Stand up for yourself. You're _pathetic ._ " Matsuda scratched the back of his head in frustration. "You honestly don't deserve to roll over to whatever abuse people put you through."

The first milestone was advice. _Genuine advice_. 

"Ah, but Matsuda-kun, it doesn't _phase_ me." Komaeda chuckled. Pitiful things should be treated like pitiful things, so it wasn't really a problem. 

Matsuda narrowed his eyes, tapping his foot along the ground before picking up the clipboard and tossing it over to the patients' bed. 

"Catch." Matsuda says, and Komaeda hardly has time to register what he's meant to catch until the clipboard hits his lap and clatters to the floor. Throwing things at his patients was a unique type of bedside manner. Komaeda picks it up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. _Callous. Rude. Lack of appreciation for resources provided by Hope's Peak._ Those are all words running through his mind when suddenly in the corner of his eye sees Matsuda aiming the scalpel at him. Komaeda doesn't even have time to gasp, when he's suddenly flinched behind the clipboard, blocking the scalpel from his head and chest. There's a ringing click as the sharp point sticks onto the clipboard before tearing off and falling pathetically onto the floor. 

_" Say something to me."_ Matsuda challenges. “Is there something you want to say? To someone could have almost took your life?”

Komaeda's heart is racing, racing, racing staring at the scalpel. "Ah… Thank you for the clipboard. I really would have gotten seriously injured if you hadn't thrown it at me."

Matsuda was deadpan. The silence rings around the room. 

Komaeda points to the scalpel on the floor, as a tight, tight smile crawls over his features. "I'm sorry you'll need to wash that." 

"You're... hopeless. It... pisses me off, when people don't fight for themselves." Matsuda glares, coming out from the seat, picking the scalpel up. 

“Astute observation, recognising me as hopeless.” Komaeda says, words tumbling from his lips like it’s natural. “Of course that’s what one would expect from a talent-”

"Cut the _polite_ crap. If you're angry at me, you should be. You should say it." At this point Matsuda’s not even looking at him anymore. He’s turned back to his desk, and waving him out of the room. 

It was a conflicting feeling, as Komaeda's eyelids fall lower and he's caught between blood simmering adrenaline and appreciation. Komaeda had a good think.

Either way, from that... Komaeda learnt Matsuda _did_ have a heart. In a weird sort of way. 

...

After a while, Komaeda realises that he starts to see the cracks in the porcelain plaster Matsuda crafts himself. The skin Matsuda wears is always professional, but underneath it, Komaeda can imagine there is probably a heart- one he can't see yet- perhaps one no one is allowed to see. 

Komaeda's about half-sure that patient-meetings aren't supposed to be a mutual therapy session, from little bits of the past with Matsuda's mother that the grouchy neurologist let's out. It sneaks through his fingers and expressions whenever he berates Komaeda for lacking a spine, telling him to stop wallowing in self-pity and fight to live. Not to take punches as they come, and to fight back. These are the things he says as he conducts his neurological examinations, and it’s quite amusing really, because Matsuda wasn’t known as the kind of guy to give emotional therapy as much as he was known to send people into it. Komaeda realises that below his stinging surface, Matsuda thinks about it a lot. He thinks about Komaeda a lot, and how to help him. 

Despite his hard nature, Matsuda had grown this skin to fight against the very nature of futility. Even if Komaeda is resistant, each time Matsuda comes out with something new to say, something new to try out and train him in some way to deal with the outside world. Komaeda's not sure why, because he wasn't paid to give emotional therapy, and neither did he ask for it… but he was grateful. For not only his brain, but also his mind, Matsuda did as scientists do, to observe and diagnose him… but in extension, somewhere along the way he took it under his wing to care about Komaeda's internal states as well- the way Komaeda thought and acted. 

Matsuda, in a strange way, could be kind.

He's not sure at all when therapy turned into moments where they were too close. When Komaeda saying thank you turned into stark silences, and before he could leave they'd be connected by the lips, pressed into the patient mattress by the hips, ground down and breathless before a knock would appear by the door and they would stop. Matsuda, in all other ways sharp and composed would grasp at Komaeda's jacket like it was an emergency and shove it into his arms, tell him to change out of his hospital gown outside before the man would throw on the lab coat on the wall he is usually too lazy to wear. When Komaeda left the room, Matsuda would be focusing hard on an academic paper with irregular breath for the few seconds before the next patient came in. 

Komaeda sure did hope the academic papers worked like medicine for the bodily ailments Matsuda picked up in make out sessions. 

From that, Komaeda's picked up that Matsuda might be just a little interested, although for the life of him he doesn't know why. 

… 

_So all those things considered, he didn't expect this to be what Matsuda was like._

...

"Fuck." Matsuda gasps, as Komaeda grinds into him, pulls him down onto the bed and the boy's eyes go wide, uncertain. Very _not-Matsuda,_ someone always composed, snippy, in-control. They'd gone as far as to book a hotel, and get themselves into this kind of state where he could feel how hard Matsuda is behind his jeans- and yet… 

Matsuda pulls away, starts to turn to get off the bed and level his breathing when Komaeda grasps his wrist.

"Matsuda-kun? Is something wrong?" Komaeda laughs, breath shallow from stealing Matsuda's, apparently. 

“Does it _look_ like something’s wrong?”

“You do look perturbed.”

"I _am_ fucking perturbed."

"Then what's wrong?" 

“You’re my fucking patient.”

“Oh." Komaeda says, deadpan, before leaning back in, but Matsuda pushes him away. Komaeda seems surprised by this. 

Matsuda stares Komaeda dead in the eye as he ponders this. There’s a silence, like he’s formulating a response. It takes a good while, but then Komaeda says it:

“Yes.”

_…_

_Yes?_

"I suppose I am your patient." Komaeda continues, slightly confused. “Not to be crude, Matsuda-kun, but I’ve been every bit as much your patient three weeks ago when we started making out on the hospital bed as I am now.” 

It's so rare- that flash across Matsuda's face that Komaeda couldn't quite place.

 _“Jesus, fuck."_ He sounds pained- an unusual thing for such a composed individual. " _Yeah. Yeah, great._ Do you want to say anything else to make me feel better? Want to tell me more about how I’m on the highway to losing my fucking job?” 

“I suppose you _are_ violating professional protocol- ” Komaeda nods, but gestures over to Matsuda’s very obvious signal down under. “But nature calls, doesn’t it?” Komaeda reminds Matsuda. "I wasn't the one who hid myself in your closet until the hospital lights went out, Matsuda-kun."

"..." Just glowering silence. 

Komaeda takes this as the sign to press on, surely, surely... "It was a mutual agreement."

"God." Matsuda slaps a palm so hard onto his head that Komaeda's mirror neurons register that shock to his skull. Being amused while having that _foreign twisting feeling rising in his airways_ was a strange thing indeed. That knowing feeling was one Komaeda was familiar with in the quieter, more private moments that he often dealt with by himself more shamefully. There was always a sort of guilt about getting off while imagining people more worthy and exceptional than he was. That chore was different, however, to that feeling he had now. 

What was this feeling? Less based on _just need,_ with _less bite_. Watching Matsuda now- it’s unfamiliar- the waves radiating through his chest. It’s warm and joyous. Amused, and…

It felt like being here was something he chose to do, a stark contrast from everything else that handed him directions in his life. Being with Matsuda gave him a sense of autonomy.

While some people would never dare to raise their heads to even the level of normal people- that definitely wasn't the case for Matsuda-kun who knew what he was worth. Who knew his potential. Who knew that no matter what he did, it would hardly even matter _because even here_ such talent was hard to come across. Matsuda-kun was the elite, and so he was always biting, and bravely saying even the rashest things… 

“So what’s wrong?” Komaeda tilts his head. He looks more innocent than his voice betrays. “Cold feet at the thought of being with someone as unbearable as me?” 

“It's not about you.” Matsuda nearly growled. The particular cocktail of how he lashes out and barks, but how he shrinks at the same time is so unlike Matsuda.

Komaeda sees it, the heart of the small boy hiding behind the porcelain shell that cracks: a heart that hasn't seen direct sunlight or any type of human connection in years. One nestled safely within the thorny arms of the nest of insults, frozen stares, and vows to conquer the field of medicine as a futile response to watching his mother die.

People don't live forever. People will forget. Without memories or autonomy, what are you? Being a medical professional who specialised in neuroscience only worked to drive in these facts. 

_Why get close to people at all?_

“Are you shy, Matsuda-kun?”

The way Matsuda stiffens, and only opens his mouth and closes it is telling, like the words are stuck in his throat.

“Is this something you want?”

Komaeda's left watching- amused- as for once the smartmouthed man only glares.

“Ahah. _Well, then.”_ Komaeda chuckles, and pulls Matsuda in so he's whispering into Matsuda's ear, making him shudder. “Matsuda-kun, I'll lead, and if there's something you don't want, stop me any time, okay?”

Matsuda's newfound paralysis is the ticket with which Komaeda drags him onto the bed with ease, swapping their positions- one hand pressing Matsuda's chest down while the other gets to work on Matsuda's zipper. Komaeda's hand travels to silence the hiss he receives in surprise, but soon his partner's noises dissolve into a stifled indecipherable moan as Komaeda finds his prize. In Komaeda's grip, the stress and tension of the muscles on Matsuda's back climax, and fall limp under roaming hands; like prey willingly relenting to their fate in the embrace of a snake. He's reduced to panting when Komaeda finally uncovers his mouth, and kisses him, slipping his tongue past Matsuda's. 

When Komaeda releases him, Matsuda huffs heavily, disgusted by the needy heat radiating off his skin.

He's not in control because he's never done anything like this. He has never had to, or wanted to, because it was _meaningless_. Human relationships were stupid and time wasting, transient and painful. And yet, _and fucking yet_ , the whirlwind of human need and biological instinct betrays him- as the number of years _rejecting people and intimacy and feelings and touch finally_ catch up to him.

Matsuda doesn't know what to do and it's fucking scary. All he knows is that his body is aching with need, and Komaeda's in control. The other man presents the only gratification available with how he kneads the heel of his palm against Matsuda's clothed hardness, sending the waves of pressure through his abdomen, making him grunt weakly into his warm neck. 

_“A- f- fuck.”_

The pressure on his cock suddenly disappears, and all of a sudden, Komaeda's slipped away, breath teasing the sensitive tip of his arousal. It jerks involuntarily when Komaeda takes him into his mouth, and moans melts through Matsuda's throat. Komaeda's head clumsily moves up and down along with the stroke of his fingers. The sensation sends heat and pleasure that builds in Matsuda's groin. Hips jerking involuntarily, Matsuda grabs a fistful of Komaeda's hair, fucking his throat with a gasp. 

The sudden action makes Komaeda gag, and Matsuda jerks, frantically pushing the head off his wet, warm cock. Anxiousness and arousal pooling uncomfortably in his gut as the man before him splutters, and wipes his mouth. But when he looks up, Komaeda's erect himself, hazy eyes stare up at Matsuda in lust and affection.

Matsuda wants to give in. Against all better judgement, he'll give in.

**Author's Note:**

> (Unsure of what to tag this as / if any warnings are required so if there are, please feel free to tell me about tags and such I should add!)
> 
> To my lovely friend Magi, super super belated fic that should have been done agessssss ago ;o; magi is always there for me and too powerful and deserves the world + more matsuda content... I hope you like it!
> 
> I feel like there was a bit of a drop in quality because of the huge time between starting and finishing this aaaaaa but I hope it ended up okay anyway! I HOPE MATSUDA WAS OK.....  
> This started off as an attempt to write about Matsuda being shy about sex and ended up as... how i view a possible matsukoma relationship to be? Because Matsuda is scared of vulnerability, and Komaeda is immune to the spiky porcupine exterior... when I was writing this, I realised their personalities would have had incredible chemistry.
> 
> I hope you enjoy x


End file.
